


and then the sun rose high above (and your smile warmed me whole)

by ladykestrel



Category: The Winner's Trilogy - Marie Rutkoski
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladykestrel/pseuds/ladykestrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>history is written by heroes, but even they have their fatal flaws</p>
<p>or; arin is your resident nerd who likes to hold grudges, while kestrel struggles to balance duty and dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part i

“Does anybody want to analyze the cause and aftermath of the fall of the first Valorian empire?” The professor asked. “ _Objectively_ ,” he added, looking straight at Arin, who was about to raise a hand. The man was still holding a grudge, it seemed. Arin hunched back in his seat and listened as a Dacran girl recite how Ancient Herran and Dacra’s alliance tipped the odds to their favour, leading up to Valoria’s ultimate demise. He already knew all of this, of course. Arin had only applied for this course as it would be an easy way to get the required credits.

Two weeks in and that was proving to be more difficult a task than expected. Arin had already made quite the impression on his Introduction to the Ancient World class’ professor with a rather throughout analysis of Ancient Valoria’s military strategy. And judging by the majority of the class’ reaction, the professor had not been the only one not amused.

Arin was used to making enemies, having the temper that he did. And, when he was willing to be honest, he quite liked the notion. Having enemies granted Arin with the freedom from pretense. In no way did it bother him that the people he’d talked to since arriving on campus could be counted on the fingers of one hand. 

“Alright, let me remind you of the deadline for your cultural assignment. I expect to have your essays in my mailbox by tomorrow night. You’re dismissed.” 

Filling out of the auditorium, Arin bumped into a blonde-haired girl in his haste to leave. He did not stop and apologize.

*

“Who does he think he is?” They had been in the campus coffee parlour where Kestrel had clued her best friend on everything that had happened in her Ancient World class. Jess had been fuming, much like her drink, since she’d heard. “Don’t you dare waste your time even thinking about that jerk! Not when there are way better fish in the ocean.” Jess sent her a pointed look before sipping on her coffee. Kestrel looked down on her own cup and frowned. “Even if they do misspell your name,” Jess added, “I honestly can’t remember the last person to get it right.”

“My father, when he was signing my birth certificate.”  


Jess laughed, then her expression turned serious again. “You’ll tell me if that guy give you any more trouble, right?”

It was Kestrel’s turn to laugh. “It was only a bump, Jess. You’re making mountains over molehills.” She wrapped her free hand around the shorter girl and said, “Come on, let’s go before all the good seats are taken.”

*

 As it turned out, Arin was not pleased with his grade. His essay on the differences between Valorian and Herran culture had been _objective_ , but his professor didn’t seem to think so. He’d even requested to see Arin after class, to discuss _certain matters_.

“I am rather concerned with your position in this class,” were the first words that came out of the professor’s mouth. “And with your position on what I teach more so.”  


“I don’t understand,” Arin said flatly. The man went on to explain how Arin’s views were irrational and biased, bordering on offensive, and had no place in a history class where opinions needed to be detached and practical. Arin was temperamental, brash, letting his feelings guide his arguments.

“You’re telling me I don’t belong in your class because my opinions don’t match yours?” Arin asked when the professor was done.  


“I am telling you that holding grudges will not be tolerated and you will be graded accordingly.”  


Arin felt his voice raise. “Holding grudges? It’s a damn history class!”   


“Yes, and the tone you use in my class demonstrates a clear resentment toward Valorian culture. It is something commonly referred, terminologically, as xenophobia.”  


“I’m familiar with what xenophobia is.”  


“Good, then we’re one step closer to resolving the issue.”  


*

“Here you go,” the barista said, handing Kestrel her order with a wink. She left without offering thanks. Right at the coffee parlour’s door, her forehead collided with the hard knock of somebody’s solid shoulder. Kestrel doubled back, careful not to spill her cup’s steaming content.

“Watch it,” snapped the person to whom the shoulder belonged to. Kestrel looked up to look at his face.

“I was watching _it_ ,” she snapped back. “It’s _you_ who seems to be making a habit of knocking into people.”  


“ _You_ knocked into _me_.”  


“And what about the last time? Did I knock into you then, too?”  


“ _What_ last time?”  


“Forget it,” Kestrel huffed and pushed past the _jerk_ , as Jess had called him. She walked away from the coffee parlour just as a loud thunder cracked through the sky.  


*

After that encounter, Arin started noticing how the Valorian girl that crashed into him was suddenly everywhere. 

He saw how, a week later, she took a seat a few rows down from him in Introduction to the Ancient Worlds. 

He learned her name was Kestrel, like the Law faculty building.

He realised what she’d meant by “the last time”.

*

Kestrel had learned two things.

One, that it was impossible to escape. The boy had become like a beacon, sending out signals on a frequency only Kestrel could pick up.

And two, it had been a mistake sharing with Jess. “I heard my father complaining about him. He said his opinions were disrespectful toward our culture. He’s an ass.”

“Did your father also say that?”  


“Nope. Just my conclusion.”  


Kestrel smiled lightly, looking away from her friend. She knew well how Jess’ father, her history professor, felt toward this particular Herrani student.

She did not, however, know why her best friend’s words suddenly bothered her.

*

He swore under his breath. 

The Valorian girl, the very same girl who seemed to be stalking him, had just walked into the campus coffee shop. It was raining cats and dogs outside and the only available seat was at the table Arin was currently occupying. And, of course, the blonde was headed straight for it.

“May I?” She asked, her voice in contrast with the loud bustle of the shop. Arin looked up to meet her light brown eyes, sure there was transparent menace in his. They flickered, for a fraction of a second, to the heavy rain outside before eyeing the girl’s drenched coat. He found himself nodding. “Thank you,” she said, leaving her bag on the stool.

She returned bearing a white styrofoam cup. Arin raised an eyebrow. The girl just shrugged. He refocused his attention back to his work.

“I don’t think that,” she said out of nowhere.  


Arin looked up from the textbook, frazzled. “Think what?”

“That you’re an ass.”  


“Okay…”  


“You must have heard that, I mean, that the class thinks you an ass. I don’t.”  


He did, indeed, know exactly what the people - and professor - in Ancient World thought of him, but Arin couldn’t bring himself to care. It was, in a way, part of his objective. “Thanks,” he told her before bowing his head to the book again. She wasn’t doing him any favours and he had to make sure she knew it.

“I might be reconsidering.”  


“Fine.”  


“Good.”  


They sat together until the rain stopped.

*

The sounds of music filled the auditorium, the melody bitter and melancholic, mirroring Kestrel’s feelings. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. After the piece was done, she carefully crept up to the exit.

The campus was experiencing one of the rare warmer days during this season and every student made sure to stay outside as much as they could to soak up some of the sunshine. 

Everything about the day seemed in contrast to how Kestrel felt.

So she went to the one place she knew she would not be disturbed. 

The smell of books hit her as soon as she walked through the large wooden doors of the library. Just as she’d presumed, not many others were in the building, just the occasional student here and there. Picking a random book, Kestrel made her way to a table at the very back. She found a secluded spot and sat down, opening up the book as to create the illusion of reading it.

It must have been a while later, but suddenly Kestrel was alert at the sound of footsteps. She quickly searched her mind for an excuse.

“I need that book,” a familiar voice said. Kestrel met the grey gaze of her homing beacon.

“Take it,” she told him, her own voice hoarse. She pushed the book forward.

“I will.” He reached for the book, started to leave, but stilled. Kestrel watched as the boy took a seat across from her and start reading.

It comforted her in a strange way.

*

The girl’s - Kestrel’s - eyes were bloated and red-rimmed. Arin foolishly sat down opposite her, feeling sorry for her. He wasn’t about to offer any emotional support, of course, but there was something wrong in leaving a crying girl alone. 

They didn’t talk. He read and she tried to hide her sniffling. 

It was she who broke the silence in the end. “Aren’t you a history student?” 

“No.”  


“I just assumed.”  


“Ancient World is the only history class I take.”

“So you’re majoring in Biology?” She asked, eyeing the textbook in his hands.

“No.”

“Oh,” she said and slumped back.

 Arin pursed his lips. “I’m actually a music major.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up slightly. “What do you specialize in?”

“The violin. But I’m aiming more toward the vocal courses.”  


“You’re a singer?” Her voice jumped.

“I fancy myself one, yes.”  


“That’s amazing,” the Valorian girl said quietly, her eyes far away.  


“Not a lot of people would agree with you, unfortunately.”  


That brought her back on the present. She looked straight in Arin’s eyes. “That’s true.” 

Arin didn’t know what to say after that. He leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms over his chest, looking anywhere but at Kestrel. He noticed the dust floating in the air, illuminated by the light coming from a window. He watched it settle on the carpet, on the books and the shelves. Finally, he settled back on Kestrel. She was biting her lip. “So,” Arin started, “are you a history major then?”

“Law,” she answered.  


“I figured.”  


“How, exactly, did you _figure_ it?”  


Arin simply said, “The plaque on the faculty building.”  


“So you know, huh?” He did. Or he thought he did. Arin knew Kestrel was _someone_ at the university, he had figured that out long ago. If it hadn’t been the name, or the expensive clothes, what would have clued him in was the way the girl carried herself. As if she’d been taught, from a very early age, that she meant something.  


“Not everything. I just assumed.” He paused, and then, “So your father’s the dean?” 

“No,” she said in a mechanical voice. “But he is close friends with the dean.”  


“I see.”   


“I have to go.” Kestrel stood up abruptly. “See you around.”  


He only saw her black dress whip past, and then she was gone.


	2. part ii

“My decision is final.”

“Fine,” Kestrel said. “So is mine.”

Her father sighed. “I didn’t raise you to be this unreasonable, Kestrel.”

“No,” she agreed. “No, you did not. Because you, yourself, are a reasonable man. Which is why I don’t understand why you refuse to see reason!”

“There is nothing to see. I will not have my daughter waste her time on frivolous activities.”

“Did you think _mom_  was wasting her time on  _frivolous_  activities?”

“Kestrel,” her father warned her. “Do  _not_ bring your mother into this.”

“Why not? Someone has to!” Her voice echoed. “For years nobody in this household was allowed to bring her up. Because you would have  _none_  of it. Because your word is law here, and everyone is scared  _shitless_  of what you might do to them. Because you, too, are  _afraid_. But let me tell you something, father.  _I’m not._  Mother might have passed away ten years ago, but you keep killing her. _Every. Single. Day._ You kill her every time you refuse to acknowledge she ever existed. And you are selfish enough to forbid your own daughter in honoring her mother’s memory. And you are blind enough to not  _see_ how your actions drive your only family further away from you. Is that what you want? To drive me away, to loose your daughter? Because you will. I hate who you have become in your grief, and I know for a fact that if mom were alive to see you today, she would hate you, too.” She was crying now, unable to stop the tears from overflowing. Before she could embarrass herself further, Kestrel ran away from her father. 

*

She had missed the last two classes and Arin hadn’t seen her on campus either. He went to the coffee shop, in hopes of seeing Kestrel there, but she wasn’t there either.

He wasn’t sure why her absence bothered him, just knew that it did. Concern settled in his stomach as if he’d swallowed a large stone whole. 

After the end of the second week, Arin was ready to admit a part of him missed Kestrel and worried after her.

*

If there was one thing good lawyers excelled at, it was getting their way.

Kestrel’s father was not a good lawyer. He was a great one. And he always got to have his way in the end. 

But Trajan was not a foolish man, and he knew when and how to compromise. That was why, after their heated argument, he had come into Kestrel’s room to negotiate the terms. After an hour, they had concluded that Kestrel was to continue with her Law degree, but was allowed to apply for some music courses, as long as they did not intervene with the more important studies.

The terms were not ideal. Yet Kestrel was content with leaving them as they were, for now, as it was a huge leap for her father to even consider allowing her attending music lessons. And Kestrel loved her father too much and hated fighting with him even more to push the argument further.

The aftermath lasted for two weeks, during which Trajan was away on work, and Kestrel took a break from classes. She played instead and felt the happiest she’d been since before her mother’s death.

*

She was back.

And attending some of Arin’s music classes with him. 

The stone had dropped from his stomach, which left Arin feeling lightweight. They didn’t speak, but when she waved at him from across the room, he smiled.

*

“You’re smiling more often now,” Jess mused one afternoon. “I’m quite relieved, to be perfectly honest. It was getting exhausting to see you so down. I have you to blame to the massive bags under my eyes!”

“I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope you can sleep better now!”

“Oh, I will!”

“I’m glad.” Kestrel smiled wider. “You know, even my professors have noted on the difference. They’re saying I’m putting more _soul_ into my work.”

“Soul? In Law? I’m pretty sure the two words are mutually exclusive. Like an oxymoron.”

“It’s so relieving, though. It feels like a great load has been lifted off my chest. You know, I even laugh now when the baristas get my name wrong! I don’t get even one bit annoyed by it.”

“Whatever you say,  _Kestral_.”

*

Ancient World class became easier. The professor way off some, stating Arin had made ‘progress’, becoming less resentful and critical toward Valorian culture. Arin wasn’t sure what he was doing differently, but he kept that to himself.

He missed home less now, too. Not that he would ever stop, but breathing this country’s air became easier with each day. He no longer felt like a moving target among a sea of sharp weapons. He even managed to make a few friends. Including the invasive Dacran, who wouldn’t leave him alone at first, always around to grind Arin’s gears. He was a good friend to have, at the end of the day. Despite being an annoying pest, Roshar understood what it was like to be an outsider. The two bonded over tales of their respective homelands and utter absurdity of the Valorian way of living. 

Roshar was built like a wall, tall and with more muscles than Arin thought biologically possible. When they’d fist met, he thought him one of the varsity jocks, either football or baseball. As it turned out, Roshar was actually studying Zoology. They shared a Biology course.

Kestrel and him had spoken a few more times after her return. She hadn’t confided in him much about what had happened, but there was an obvious change in the girl. Arin learned she’d signed up for a couple more music classes apart the musical instruments class they shared. He was surprised to find out Kestrel played the piano, and even more so that she was brilliant at it. 

They bonded over their shared love for music.

“Maybe we can do a duet one day,” Kestrel had joked once, over coffee. Arin had laughed along, but had silently been wondering what that would be like since.

*

Ronan was visiting for a few weeks, and Jess was over the moon with excitement. She had been dreaming of matching up her brother with her best friend since childhood. “Think about it, Kestrel! We would get to be sisters,” she would always say. 

“So, how’s life as a freshman?” Ronan asked as he and Kestrel sat together in the parlour. “Not too exiting, judging by your expression?”

Kestrel laughed. “It’s plenty exciting, trust me. But overwhelming at times, too.”

“Well, now I’m here so you get to relax some! Tell me everything. How are you liking your classes? I heard you’re playing the piano again!”

“I am! And the classes are fine. You don’t really have to guess which ones I enjoy most, do you?”

“The history ones, of course!” Ronan joked. He had always teased Kestrel about history classes, even in primary school, as the subject always left a bitter taste in Kestrel’s mouth. But somewhere along the path, that had changed and Kestrel was taken aback by the sudden realization.

“Actually,” she said, “it’s just the one class, at least for this semester, and it’s not all bad.”

“My god!” Ronan fake gasped. “Must be one hell of a class then.”

“Yes,” Kestrel said. “It is.”

*

“Your girl has been hanging around some blonde tree,” Roshar offered as a greeting.

“What girl?”

“Don’t play idiot with me, Herrani. You know which girl I’m talking about.”

“She’s not  _my_  girl, Roshar. We’re not even friends.”

“Whatever you say, man. Now, to business. I need you for something.”

“I feel you’re only friends with me so you can use me at your disposal. But I’m not your gigolo.”

“Of course not,” Roshar nodded. “You’re my bitch. And I need your help to run some experiments in the lab. You in or not?”

Arin sighed. “I’m in. What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. It’s gonna be fun, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to update a lot sooner than this, but university got in the way. i'm terribly sorry, and i would also like to apologize because i can't promise the next update would come sooner. i do promise to _try_ so that's something. anyways, hope this was worth the wait (for anyone who still hasn't given up on reading this. :D)


	3. part iii

A roaring applause erupted into the room. Kestrel felt like she had just played in front of five hundred people instead of just fifty. 

Her stomach had been in knots at the beginning, before she’d walked up to the piano. She hadn’t played for this many people before, and she desperately wanted to impress them, to do well. 

The second her fingers hit the keys, Kestrel forgot all about her anxiety. 

When the piece was finished, she stood and looked at her colleagues. They were all clapping. Searching the room, Kestrel sought to meet a pair of grey eyes. 

She didn’t. 

*

“This is a lullaby my nurse used to sing me to sleep with.”

Too much. It was too much. He couldn’t take it.

So he left.

The entire class was too engrossed to notice him slip out. Arin was the only one to hear the door click closed.

A surge of anger engulfed him in flames, spreading throughout his body like wildfire. Arin barely reigned it in. He walked into the drizzling rain as if that could extinguish what was burning inside of him. Water soaked his clothes, his hair, filled his shoes. Somewhere, thunder cracked and lightning pierced through the clouds.

It was cold, getting colder still, yet Arin felt only the heat of his own fury. 

He kept walking until he reached a building. Looking up with surprise, Arin realised he’d come up to the faculty of Law and was now standing face to face with the golden plaque. He chuckled humorlessly at the writing.

“You find something amusing?”

“Incredibly so,” he replied.

“Care to share? And while you’re at it, want to explain why you walked out?”

“I don’t have to explain. I owe you nothing.”

“What is your problem?” Kestrel insisted. “I thought we were getting along. I- I thought we were friends.”

“My problem is  _you_! You and your stupid plaque and the way you make everything yours. You, Valorians, leave nothing untainted, don’t you? Nothing is sacred to you people!”

“What are you even talking about?”

“That piece you play, the lullaby. You don’t even know what it is, do you, Kestrel? To you it’s probably just a pretty melody to listen to. Isn’t it? You have no idea of its meaning, of its significance. You’re drowning in ignorance, just as all Valorians are. You’re all so self-centered, everything has to be about you!”

“Oh, I see.” Kestrel set her jaw. Arin glared at her – she seemed to take it as an invitation to elaborate. “The problem is that you’re living between the pages of our history books. You’re narrow-minded, prejudiced, and that clouds your judgment. Your opinions are as shallow as our supposed ignorance.”

He cut her off. “At least I have the strength to voice them.” 

No reaction showed on Kestrel’s face, not an imposing one anyway. Arin only saw her eyes flash, then she blinked and the residue was gone.

“Grow up, Arin.” With that, she walked away, leaving Arin alone in the pouring rain.

*

“That’s disgusting,” Jess said, handing her a handkerchief.

“It’s called being sick, Jess. All humans experience the sensation.”

“Fortunately, I seem to be immune. Even more fortunate for you, since I can be around to offer my assistance when my best friend is too weak to move.”

“You’re a true friend, Jess.”

“That I am! Alright, what kind of soup do you want? And please say tomato because that’s the only instant soup your kitchen is stocked with at the moment.”

“Tomato soup sounds good,” Kestrel agreed. “Thank you, Jess.”

“Hush. This is what best friends are for!”

Later, Kestrel sipped her tomato soup from a mug while she and Jess watched television. She must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing she knew, there were loud knocks on her door. Kestrel looked around, still shaking away the sleep, but Jess was nowhere to be found. She figured her friend had left for a bit and forgotten the key, and that was her making such a fuss. Wrapping a blanket around herself, Kestrel stood up to open the door.

He was the last person she expected to see outside her dorm room.

*

“I didn’t know you lived in a dorm,” Arin said sheepishly.

“Obviously you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing there.” Kestrel sounded almost child-like. 

“I didn’t. until an hour ago.” 

“How’d you find out?” 

“Um… Can I come in?” When Kestrel made no move to let him in, Arin continued, “I may or may not have had to bribe someone on the student council for your address.”

She crossed her arms, covering up even further with the fuzzy blanket wrapped around her. “Why go through all the trouble?” 

Arin sighed. Shuffled on his feet. “How are you feeling?” he asked instead.

“Spectacular,” Kestrel replied. “If you couldn’t tell.” Her voice sounded nasal and raspy at the same time, and Arin could tell it was difficult for Kestrel to get some of the words out. 

“I used to get a lot of colds, before. As a child, there wasn’t a flu that would pass me by, I caught everything. My mother, she used to make me inhale sugar. For my nose.”

“You- What?”

“It’s weird, I know. But. You don’t inhale the _actual_  sugar, just the fumes. See, you’re supposed to boil it? In a pot, with some water. And breathe in. What’s even weirder is, that it works.”

*

The air was dense. Kestrel swore she could feel the stickiness, like it was a physical being, going up her nose, nesting in her pores. Her eyes were teary, even more so than they were before agreeing to this absurdness. 

To tell the truth, Kestrel wasn’t sure why she agreed. Perhaps the sniveling was getting out of hand. Perhaps it was the almost liquidized guilt she had seen in Arin’s eyes. Perhaps she just wanted to spend time with someone who was not of her immediate friends and family.

Falling ill gave way to quite the free time to think. Kestrel had thought, and thought, and thought, while lying in her bed, trying to ignore the way she wheezed or how the back of her throat was itching something fierce. Or the way her body seemed to have betrayed her, laying limp and heavy – a dead weight. 

She’d thought of Arin. 

She didn’t want to think of him. Not at first. But as time passed, and the television programmes dwindled to simple static, Kestrel could not avoid the depths of her mind any longer. She let go.

She realised why she’d been unsettled by Jess’ snarky remark. By the buzz of silent laughter in Ancient World whenever Arin made an appearance or made a comment. She realised why her heart had squeezed when she didn’t see him after her class performance. 

Arin had been real. Was real. While everyone else around her was fake. Some didn’t acknowledge it, some did but chose to ignore it. Kestrel’s society circles were fake, and, like her primary school tutor liked to say, _up to their ass_ in their own valour. It made them blind. Enai had once said, Kestrel recalled, that Valorians were living on old fame. That their namesake would be their downfall, as it had been centuries prior. Kestrel also remembered how quickly she’d adverted the subject. 

She’d been blind as well. Stuck under the clouds of ages past, sitting on somebody else’s monuments. And then, a ray of light. Breaking through the cracks. Kestrel saw grey, like a storm coming to wash her away.

Hot steam hit her and Kestrel made a face.

*

“I cannot believe you made me go through with that.”

Arin laughed, and it rung through the small space. “You feel better, don’t you?” At first there was silence, then – a begrudging murmur of agreement. “You ought to be thanking me.” 

Kestrel stared straight ahead.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Kestrel sniffed then nodded, still not looking at him. He said her name. Thunder cracked outside, but the rain had subsided.

“You should be sorry,” Kestrel whispered. Her words hung in the air.

Arin bowed his head. His thoughts became the shape of a door, wooden and worn, but with hinges that shone in bright yellow gold. It was beckoning him, pulling him toward it.

He didn’t say anything more, nor looked back at the sniffling girl. The click of the lock echoed through the building’s halls long after he closed the door.

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize that this is a millenia late but in all honesty, i didn't at all expect to pick this up again after all this time. and yet, miracles _can_ happen and i finally sat down to write an update. i'm still not sure if i'll actually be able to complete this, as commitments and i have this _thing_ , but it's looking up. for now, at least. anyways, i hope you enjoy and i'm so sorry for the long wait (to anyone who still hasn't lost hope for this au, if there's any.)

**Author's Note:**

> \+ title credit goes to my brilliant brain twin ([her ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/allthesongsmakesense) \+ [tumblr](http://quakefire.tumblr.com))


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